


Stiles and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Pick-Up Lines

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Apparently there is a tag for that, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Fluff and Crack, Humour, I am not special, Kind of a drabble, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Stiles Is Awkward, based off a tumblr prompt, my attempt at humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“you’re the security guard I distracted by pretending to be drunk while my friend broke into the building, and you never caught on but you thought my confusion and deliberately terrible come-ons were adorable, now we’ve run into each other somewhere else and you’re asking me out for coffee and I genuinely don’t know what to make of this” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Pick-Up Lines

Scott needs to get into the nightclub. Not, ‘Scott wants to get into the night club,’ Scott _needs_ to get into the nightclub. 

And there’s a really huge freaking line that’s preventing that right now, which is problematic, because there’s a huge spider-human crawling the walls and infecting innocent people. Yes, the thing shoots out a fizzing, acidic liquid when it’s angry. 

Scott’s antsy, unable to stay still and constantly peering up. There’s at least twenty people before them. They’ve only been waiting five minutes in the back alley, but a spider-human can probably do a lot of damage in that time. 

“And there’s no other way in?” Stiles asks, even though he knows the answer. 

“No other way in,” Scott confirms with a huff. “This place has good security, ever since, you know.”

Scott is referring to the time a centaur destroyed this place about a year ago. God knows why all the supernatural creatures of Beacon Hills likes to fuck up gay bars. Sounds like internalized homophobia, to be honest.

“Okay, Scott,” Stiles announces, plan formulated. “there are probably people dying… Desperate times call for desperate measures. Follow me and be quiet.”

Stiles _knows_ this is a bad plan, and the chances of it working aren’t great, but he’s got to try to help Scott. It’s his _job_ to get past these little hurdles so Scott can do the heavy lifting. Scott would do the same for him, if the roles were reversed.  
He knows the true alpha is having qualms about cutting line (really, Scott?) but Stiles shoves it aside. Stupid Scott and his morals. So what if Stiles has to play dirty? It’s not like they’re doing this for selfish reasons, anyways. 

He wishes he could just explain to people, like the police and authority figures that always get in their way. 

So he takes a deep breath and begins to walk a little lopsided, walking around the line of drunk and buzzed people. He watches them and tries to mimic their movements. What? He’s only been drunk once, and that ended up with Scott almost killing two people. He didn’t though, so that’s what counts.

“Scott, I need to distract the security dude. Pretend I’m drunk, okay?” he whispers, then grimaces because this is going to be embarrassing. 

“Walk up to the gay club like, what up I got a big cock!” he loudly sings, attracting many eyes, and Scott slaps a hand over his mouth. 

The werewolf turns pink, “Stiles!” he hisses in embarrassment.

“Come on, Scotty bo-“ he hiccups, “-y. It’s time to _party!_ Gotta let loose, man.”

“What’s your plan?” Scott says urgently. 

They near the door, lined with red velvet rope, and –

A security guard hotter than the sun. The dude looks to be two hundred pounds of muscle, with ridiculous biceps. Seriously, he’s so muscle-y that his shirt stretched tightly across his chest and pulls tightly around his arms. His face is so fucking beautiful it’s unfair. High as fuck cheekbones with light stubble Stiles could spend forever rubbing his face against. 

Fuck. 

Okay, don’t panic. No biggie. He can totally do this. Just… The drunker the better, right? He takes in a big breath of air, casually swaggering down the way, making sure to stumble a couple times. (Not that he really has to try too hard to accomplish that.)

Except, the last time, he’s a little too committed (distracted) and almost actually face plants, but Hot Security Guy catches him. He swallows, staring into the dude’s beautiful greenish eyes for a couple seconds. Hot Security Guy’s eyes are returning his stare.

Stiles finally jerks back, “Wow,” he murmurs tranced, but quickly recovers, “Looks like I’ve just fallen for you.”

Hot Security Guy Derek, as his name tag reads – gives him a blank look. “Are you drunk?”

Stiles grins, “No, no, just intoxi- intoci – intoxicated by you,” he pokes Mr. Eyebrows of Doom’s chest. “Wow, that is very _very_ firm chest you got yourself, Mister,” he muses, and it’s completely true. His hand is now laying on this guy’s chest, and he’s praying to God he won’t lose a tooth when Derek punches him. The mutant spider dude is so not worth the pain. 

Derek scoffs, but doesn’t shoo him away, to his surprise. Scott’s inching towards the door, making Stiles’ heart race in anxiety. 

“Hey, is there a magnet in your pocket?” Stiles grins, swaying just a little. 

Derek sighs, “What?”

“Because I’m attracted to your buns of steel!” 

Derek just looks at him. He sways 'subtly' to Derek’s right, away from the door, and Derek turns his body just a little, so he can face him. 

“I just shit in my pants,” Stiles says after a quick moment of intense thinking, lopsided grin. “Can I get in yours?”

Derek wrinkles his nose, sighing heavy. He moves to turn around back to the door, where Scott is, but Stiles grabs his shirt. It’s a panicked, awkward motion, so he trips a little. He frantically waves his hand in a ‘go!’ motion behind Derek to Scott.

Derek is quick to catch him, and suddenly Stiles’ face is pressed to his chest again. He ‘umphs’ ungracefully. Derek straightens him. 

“You’ve got to the most clumsy person I’ve ever seen,” he grumbles under his breath, but Stiles knows there’s a hint of a smile under there. Like Stiles amuses him.  
“Wh – I’m not. Hey are – are those real glasses?” he reaches up for Derek’s glasses, but Derek leans away. Stiles pouts.

“I dropped my contact this morning,” Derek grunts, folding his arms like Stiles is about to start making fun of him. 

“Well, you look _adorable_ ,” Stiles says firmly, confidence unwavering. “Like a lil’ ol’ librarian. With a fuckton of muscles. And a death glare that you’re currently using on me right now. See? Adorable.”

From over Derek’s shoulder, he can see Scott give him the thumbs up, then disappearing into the dark shadows. 

“Are you trying to skip the line by flirting me? Because it’s not working,” Derek says, a victorious little smile on his face. The lil’ ol’ librarian thing has made him spiteful.

“No,” Stiles lies, offended, “Why of-of course not. Why, would you like me to stop?" Derek just narrows his eyes. “Would you like to come to a party, Derek?”

“Party?”

“Yes, the one in my pants! Everyone’s invited!” he yells to the people standing in line. A couple people cheer because they're a little tipsy and hey, _party_ , but he looks at Derek triumphantly. 

Derek rolls his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. 

“ So are you gonna come?” Derek stares. “Oh! Ha, pun not intended.”

“I think you should go sober up, uh…” Derek interrupts, narrowing his eyes, looking at Stiles appraisingly. 

“Stiles!” he chirps. “My name is Stiles.”

“Stiles. Go drink some water and come back when you’re able to stand on your own,” he gestures to his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, keeping him upright. 

“Oh, please, you can’t pretend you don’t love me already. They lines are totally working on you!”

Derek ducks his head for a moment, (jackpot!) and shakes his head. “They don’t.” 

“Dang it. Guess I’ll have to amp it up a little,” Stiles grins wickedly. 

“No, Stiles, do not –“Derek starts, face looking a little panicked. He looks over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one’s listening. It’s hilarious. He didn’t think such a macho looking dude would be so easily flustered. Shouldn’t Derek be the one making these moves? 

“My dick just died. Would you mind me burying it in your ass?”

“Stiles!“

“I may not go down in history, but I’ll go down on you.”

“That’s…” Derek is all of a sudden speechless, eyebrows raised. 

“I hope you like dragons,” Stiles begins, grinning. 

“Don’t finish that,” Derek warns, face a lovely pink that reaches his ears.

“- Because I’ll be dragon my balls across your face tonight!”

Derek buries his face in his palms, and Stiles laughs. “Derek, do know what I like in a guy?” He doesn’t wait Derek to answer or face palm again, “My dick." Derek makes a choked off noise. "Okay, okay, one last one,” Stiles grins brightly. Derek’s gone from a grumpy, broody and frightening security guard to a blushing, embarrassed disaster, and Stiles feels proud of himself. 

“I’ll give you a nickel if you tickle my pickle.”

He doesn’t know what he expects (maybe that punch he’s been waiting for?) but Derek bursting out laughing is definitely not it. It’s such a beautiful sound, and Stiles wants to listen to it every day. It’s barely a chuckle, but god, he’s wondering if he can secretly record it to make it his ringtone. 

There’s a moment of silent staring, Derek with laughter in his eyes, and Stiles, who’s probably just staring creepily, and then someone clears there throat. It’s Danny, unsurprisingly. He grins at them, then gives the thumbs up to Stiles, who just blinks owlishly and tries not to melt into the ground. 

Derek snaps to attention and back to his job. As Danny and a couple friends go in, he really, really hopes Scott's killed the thing.

He regretfully slips away when Derek isn’t watching to call Scott. 

__

 

Stiles is sitting down at the café, phone silenced for once. He just sips on a coffee and tiredly rubs his hand across his face. He has shit to do and places to be, but yet, here he is just sipping caffine in a hipster hole in the wall. There’s always something going on in his life. Scott always needs his help, Lydia needs a shoulder to cry on, Allison and Scott's secret love affair needs a messenger boy, etc. He's missed three exams this week, too, but balancing a supernatural world and a human one is hard, and there’s not time for both. It's either survive or do homework. 

He startles a little when someone pulls out the chair opposite of him, sitting down. He’s about to grumble something like ‘go away’ or pretend he doesn’t speak English, but when he looks up, he stops short. 

“Hey,” a familiar face says. Stiles’ eyes go wide, internally panicking. Shit. It’s Derek. Derek as in Hot Security Guard Derek. The one he made a complete ass of himself in front of a couple weeks back, made a lot of innapropriate comments. He's a little surprised he didn't get reported to his dad for sexual harrassment, to be honest. He can feel his face heating, splotchy shades of pink no doubt coating his cheeks. 

“Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly. 

“I’m Derek. I don’t know if you remember me, but –“ 

“No, I, I do,” he cringes. “I do.”

Derek grins. “I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“What?” 

“I wanted to get your number, but you disappeared,” Derek frowns, like it was disappointing or something. “You seemed pretty intent on getting my attention just to dissapear like that.”

“Oh, that? That was because I was drunk! See, if I were, uh, sober, I never would’ve approached you. Like. Ever. I came to senses, eventually.” Derek, on the scale of hotness, was about a ten. Stiles? Five on a _good_ day. 

“And what if I want you to approach me?” Derek asks, eyebrows raised challengingly. He watches Stiles closely, and it’s a little unnerving. 

“You.. You would want that?” Derek gives him a ‘duh’ look, but Stiles isn't buying it. Derek's a hot, twenty-something year old who could probably score a supermodel. Stiles is still techincally underage and in high school, for the love of god. “What was it that hooked you? Let me guess. My horrible pick-up lines? Me, humiliating myself?“

“No. It was when you invited me to an orgy, actually." 

Stiles groans, burying his head in his hands. “Ugh, I usually wait until the second date to do that.”

“I thought it was funny,” Derek laughs. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

“I - I mean, yeah, I guess. Still think you're a little crazy, but who am I to turn down a date? Maybe we can start over?”

“Not a chance. I'll be telling this story to our grandchildren,” he says, like he has no idea he's making Stiles melt.

"Yeah, okay, I can live with that." 

**Author's Note:**

> Very first attempt at a tumblr prompt, so go easy on me please! Thanks for reading. 
> 
> My tumblr that mostly reblogs Tumblr and Teen Wolf is here: http://surfingdog36.tumblr.com/


End file.
